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by little_abyss



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: (mostly fluff tempered by a little angst because how can I not), Fluff and Angst, Long-Distance Relationship, Love Letters, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 04:39:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3637008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_abyss/pseuds/little_abyss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen makes a decision after a series of increasingly desperate letters from Dorian.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home

 

 

 

Amatus,

  


Arrived safely but slowly, all thanks to your unnecessary fretting.  Rushing off to meet Archon’s representative (!) so just a short note.  Will write again later.

  


x Fireball  
  
---  
  
 

He smooths the note of its crumples and snorts at the tone.  He had sent the guards with Dorian, true, but only after a long process of trying to convince Dorian that not only could they spare them, since he was going as the Inquisition’s representative, it was imperative that he arrive at Minrathous safely.  “My feelings are not an issue here,” Cullen had insisted at the time, “though of course I would rather you remained in one piece as well.”  Dorian had rolled his eyes at that and told him he was being a dreadful bore, that he, Dorian, was very capable of looking after himself, _thank you very much_ , but he’d like to leave the guard at home.  “I’m sure that they have better things to be doing?” he had asked, and taken another swig of whiskey from the bottle before passing it back to Cullen, who arched an eyebrow, grinned, and said “No, they don’t.”

 

Months later, there is another letter.  Cullen has been trying to secure an additional route through the mountains, working with Fereldan’s forces, and is struggling to compose a letter which says “Just fucking do it” to the general of their army in as nice a way as possible.  “Nice, but direct” he murmurs, then his door opens and a soldier comes in clutching a worn looking piece of parchment.  “Apologies, Knigh… um, I mean Commander.” The man blushes and Cullen says “Were you going to call me Knight-Captain?” He laughs and says “I haven’t heard that in years.  Were you with the Templars, ser?”  The man swallows and says “Yes, I was recruited just before… er… the events at Kirkwall.  After Kirkwall, I was transferred to Starkhaven, then the Circles broke and I ended up here.  I, er, have this from you.  Madam Ambassador asked me to get it to you with her apologies - it seems it got mislaid.”  Cullen takes the parchment from the man, glancing quickly at the seal, then smiles and thanks him without looking at him.  As the man leaves the room, Cullen breaks the seal quickly and begins to read, soaking in the words, knowing that he will read them many, many times over the coming days and weeks.

 

 

 

Amatus,

  


Apologies for having taken so long between notes; terribly, terribly dull excuses like ‘on Inquisition business’ keep floating to the top of ones mind, and I know that you’ll be the same, but still, the apology stands.  Things are fine here - attending balls (dull), making helpful contacts (duller), and attending to copious notes back and forth between the Magisterium and myself (dullest of all) seems to take up most of my time, and I drop into bed each night with scarcely time to snatch a moment for myself.  You can’t see my face, so you might not understand that that is innuendo.  But it is.

  


Your letters have been received, never fret.  I hope that you are not pining for me the way that I have been shamelessly pining for you; but we did say that we’d try to keep that kind of gormless romanticism to a minimum, did we not?  In any case, I have yet to see anyone here who puts me quite so much in the mind of your wet-dog stink and the bright fire of your eyes, despite my fervoured searching.  So, of course, I remain,

Your Fireball

x  
  
---  
  
 

The weeks go by, and they turn into months.  The route through the Frostbacks is finally established, and trade and arms flow into Skyhold while information and influence flow out.  Cullen finds his job requiring less active decision making and more management of past decisions - a development which sits uneasily with him.  It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy the command aspects still, but he feels more reactive than he had done prior to Corypheus’ defeat.  He is standing at the window in his office, looking out at an approaching storm rising over the mountains when a gust of wind from the door draws him from his thoughts.  “Commander,” Leliana says, and smiles at him.  He raises his eyebrows at her and says in surprise, “I thought you were in Val Royeaux.”  He pauses and grins through his embarrassment, “And hello.”

She laughs and holds out a piece of parchment, telling him “Yes, I was in Val Royeaux.  But Josie requested a visit next time I could get away, and I have to confess to missing all of those who remained rather dearly.  Strange how that happens.  Though I see that there are some… notable absences since we left.”

He nods. “Dorian, of course.  And we tried to keep the Chargers, but there were pressing contracts that paid more, and not really enough to keep them here.  I think that the Inquisitor will be quite glad to go back to that life… especially since he and Iron Bull are… well…”

“Together?”  She laughs and says “I heard about you all walking in on them from Josie.  Maker, I wish I could have been there.  Though I have a feeling that Josie looked hard enough for both of us.”  She laughs again, and Cullen notices that she seems much happier since she has been back in Orlais.  He thinks the Grand Game must suit her; it has to suit someone, he thinks.  “Oh, I have this for you from her too.  Josie was wondering if you could tell Dorian in your next letter that she is not the postmaster for Skyhold?”

It is his turn to laugh, and then he says “Point taken.  Though I think he thinks he’s doing her a favour, knowing her penchant for goss...er… knowing what goes on around here.”

Leliana grins, then tilts her head and observes him for a moment, before stepping forward and brushing her fingers over his stubbly cheek.  She smiles fondly up at him, and tells him, “Victoria will be pleased - she worries about you still, I think.  I’ll be pleased to tell her that you are looking so well.”  She glances momentarily at his hands, and smiles when she sees how desperately he is clutching the letter, nodding to herself, then looking up again to say, “I will take my leave, Cullen.  It was good to see you.”

“And you, Leliana.  Give my regards to Victoria.”

 

As soon as she is out of the office he breaks the seal.  This letter seems longer again than the last, though that might just be the distance of time playing tricks on his memory.  He reads:

 

 

 

Amatus,

Winter is approaching Minrathous at a slow pace - she seems to expend all her energies in the South, and be exhausted by the time she reaches us.  I have to keep reminding my countrymen that once they have spent several years in the Frostbacks, then they can start complaining about ‘the cold’.

  


Maker, I’ve just spent half a page bitching about the weather, haven’t I?  Oh dear, I must be turning almost as dull as you.  Still, I can only imagine Skyhold is under at least five wheels of snow by now, so it may be spring again by the time you receive this letter.  Which is good - it gives me some time to recover from the embarrassment I’m currently suffering at writing to you merely because I am lonely for you.  Writing seems almost to draw you closer to me, in some odd way.  

  


Pitiful blathering aside, it seems ~~Cas~~ Divine Victoria’s overtures to Divine Hessarian XII here are beginning to thaw him out a little at a time, though the process is glacial in every sense of the word; slow, frosty as a Chantry fuck, and a damn sight more going on under the surface than anyone would credit.  Inquisition business going splendidly; regular life-in-Minrathous business a matter for another letter.  Obviously, you delicious dimwit, I remain,

    Your Fireball

        x  
  
---  
  
 

Only a few weeks later, a scrap of paper arrives on Cullen’s desk after he comes back from a meeting with the newly returned Inquisitor.  Tashaath has made official what they had all assumed - he will be joining the Chargers as soon as they find a replacement for him.  Now that Corypheus is no longer a threat, he could not see the relevance in remaining, but understands that the Divine Victoria will want to continue the Inquisition at least for a time.  Cullen sighs and picks up the scrap, unfolds it and reads, scrawled across the paper,

 

 

 

Miss you.  Want you.  D.  
  
---  
  
 

He sits heavily in the chair, reads the four words over again, and then really looks at it. Where the other letters have been composed in Dorian’s rather gorgeous copperplate, this is scrawled hurriedly.  The parchment looks as if it has been torn from a book or a ledger, and there is an unusual crease down the middle of it.  Cullen’s mind flashes back to seeing Dorian immediately after the meeting with his Father in Redcliffe, watching him as he flashed a smile which went nowhere near his eyes, seeing him twist and roll a piece of parchment, the only indication of the roiling of the emotions within.  He bites his lower lip, rubs the parchment between his finger and thumb and sighs through his nose.  Then suddenly he is close to tears, and he sniffs them back, looks up at the ceiling to try and quell them.  He rubs a hand over his face and sighs again, leaning back in the chair, thinking.  But there is nothing that occurs to him, no way to solve the puzzle of how to bring Dorian back or… perhaps… but no, surely Dorian will not want him in Minrathous, and what would he do there, anyway?   _You’d be with him_ a soft voice in the back of his mind says, but he pushes it down and away, telling himself he has work to get on with.  He clenches his jaw, tucks the scrap of parchment inside his shirt, and pulls the pile of papers across the desk to himself.

 

Ten days later, there are two large letters on his desk when he comes back from breakfast.  Now that his commanding officers are doing most of the training of new troops, Cullen awakes early and finds himself faced with nothing much to do.  Well, that is hardly true, but since Dorian’s last note, he finds himself with nothing much he wants to do.  Every time he looks at the note, his stomach clenches at the distance between them, the knowledge that unless they are together, that distance will only grow.  Taashath has decided he will leave at months end, whether the Inquisition is ready or not; and although Cullen has argued with him about it, it was half-hearted - he understands better than the qunari thinks, his desire to be somewhere else.

 

The first letter turns out to be from Mia; a long one, exhaustively detailing the preparations for his nephews upcoming wedding.  His eyes skim over the words, snorting occasionally at a particularly sisterly phrase, but he finds himself distracted by the copperplate writing on the second letter before he’s even finished reading hers.  Eventually, he gives in to temptation and drops Mia’s letter on his desk to open Dorians.  It reads:

 

 

 

Amatus,

I’ve sat here and looked at that damnable word for an hour now - put down the quill to pick it up again, only to set it down.  Not sure how to start this, so just started writing in the hopes that words will come.   ~~But I~~

  


~~I just~~

  


There is clearly no easy way to tell you what I mean.  At least, not for me.  Contrary to popular belief, I’ve never been in much of a position to make my demands known, let alone to try and convince someone I love dearly that they might be a good idea.  So let us see if I can make you understand.

  


You know already that it had been a fervent wish of mine to return to Tevinter, to try and elicit a change within the Imperium which made it a place where government was based more on mutual cooperation and respect than fear and threat.  I knew, of course, the damage done to the Imperium’s reputation through Thedas was not something I could change overnight, and thought I had hardened my heart to the idea that I would lose some (or most) of myself in the process.  However, now that I am in the thick of the struggle to obtain that long-held desire (and making gains everyday - it no longer feels like the two steps forward and one back that it used to), I find myself struggling internally.  Not from any of the reasons I had expected; I knew it would be almost ceaseless labour, I knew I would continue to be an outcast, but the goal was so great, the prize was so tempting that I ~~couldn’t bring myself not to try at least~~

~~couldn’t bring myself to believe it wasn’t possible~~

couldn’t not, despite knowing what it was I stood to lose.

  


I know I’m doing this badly.  I know that I’m hardly in a position to ask.  But I also know that you’ll forgive me, that you understand that it’s part of my nature to want it all.  I want the comfort of your embrace in the mornings, the satisfaction in your smile, and to change the world, in my own small way.  Because I am a selfish creature, I will ask and leave you to decide - will you join me?  Here, in Minrathous?  Write back as soon as you can, but know, always, I remain,

    Your Fireball

        x  
  
---  
  
 

Cullen smiles, trying to visualise Dorian’s face as he struggles with the words.  He knows no-one else who has such a way with them, so to think of him having a hard time explaining himself almost beggars belief.  His smile broadens when he realises that there is no agony here; his decision is made.  Was made weeks ago, really.  He takes fresh parchment from a small pile inside his desk drawer, sharpens a quill and dips it into ink.  He smiles as he writes, and the smile grows as he blots the ink to reveal his answer:

 

Yes.


End file.
